


Smile

by BakersHuntress



Series: scenes from Leo Fitz's recovery [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, Drama, Fitz-centric, Gen, Leo Fitz-centric, Post-Beginning of the End
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-21
Updated: 2014-05-21
Packaged: 2018-01-25 23:05:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1665806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BakersHuntress/pseuds/BakersHuntress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"…Drowning's supposed to be quite pleasant in the end, apparently, once the water fills up your lungs…." ~ Leo Fitz, Beginning of the End</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smile

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Anything pertaining to Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. does not belong to me.
> 
> A/N: Not sure if this has been done before. If so, I promise I didn't plagiarize. If not, well, yay me.

They—whoever 'they' are—are right. Drowning is pleasant.

However, before the pleasant part sets in, there is pain. First, the pain of water rushing into the pod and knocking the wind right out of me like a hundred punches to my stomach, just as I had anticipated. Involuntarily, I take in a breath. But of course, there isn't any air to breathe. I take in water instead. And that is the second pain—the pain of the salt water burning its way through my nostrils and into my nasal cavity. Then it burns its way down my trachea and, finally, into my lungs.

As I drown, the pain ceases. And it is pleasant. I feel light. Though I suppose that can be attributed to the water that now surrounds me.

Parts of my life start replaying in my head. It amuses me. I've always been somewhat skeptical that that actually happens when one is dying, but apparently it does.

I see my mum, of course. I see a much younger version of her trying to coax me away from the old VCR I've dismantled and into the backyard to kick the football around with her. I'd been four-years-old at the time. And even though I'd much rather have been inside our house studying the circuit board, I indulge her. I remember the warm, congratulatory hug she gives me when the ball I kicked shot past her. My first goal.

And then there is a puppy. A border terrier. Mum brings her home one day when I was five, maybe six. I think her name is Maggie. Or is it Mandy? Monkey? I can't recall, but I remember that for a long time, aside from Mum, she is my best friend. Aside from Mum, she is my only friend. She does not laugh at me or tease me. She does not threaten to hurt me so I will do her homework—not that she would have any homework to do. (That'd be absurd. Who would give homework to a dog?) She stays a part of our family until we had to put her down when she develops lymphoma at age five.

And then there is a girl. She's eighteen. The same age as I. I remember being unhappy and lonely and homesick. And then we are assigned as partners in a laboratory class. When she comes up to my work bench, she greets me with the most beautiful smile I'd ever seen. And I stop feeling unhappy, lonely, and homesick shortly after she came into my life.

The next memory plays far dimmer than the earlier ones, and I realize my time in this world is almost up. It's a memory of me and the girl. We were older. She sits next to me in a tiny room. She calls me her hero and kisses my cheek. And she smiles.

Her smile is the last thing I see before everything fades into darkness and silence.

I don't know how much time has passed. But slowly, light forces its way through the darkness. Slowly, ambient noises register in my ears. Beeps, mostly. And some buzzing. The light is blinding, and the noises are faint.

I squint my eyes shut to force away the brightness, and it helps. Then I hear a voice. It is muffled, as if someone is speaking to me while covering my ears at the same time. But no one is touching me.

Or at least not touching my head. Someone is holding my hand, though. I feel the warmth of it and the pressure of its light squeeze.

The voice starts to clear up.

"Fitz?" it says. It was soft and feminine. "Can you hear me? Open your eyes. Please, Fitz, open your eyes."

I try to do what is asked, but the brightness was too much and I shut my eyes again.

"Dim the lights." the voice commands to someone behind her. "All right, Fitz, try again," she says to me gently.

Slowly, I open my eyes. This time, the light isn't so painfully blinding.

I glance around the room and see the blurry image of five individuals. I try to say something, but it comes out as a croak. Then my hand is released.

"Here, drink this." I feel a straw pass between my lips and take a sip. I did not realize how thirsty I am until the water touches my tongue. I drink until I start to sip up air. By then, my vision sharpens.

When the straw and cup is pulled away, I finally look up to the person who had held my hand and given me the drink.

The first thing I notice is her smile. I do not believe I'll ever see a more beautiful smile than hers.

"I know you," I tell her.

"Yes. It's me, Fitz." Her smile grows bigger and all the more beautiful, and tears pool in the corners of her eyes. An overwhelming, intense feeling of happiness floods my heart.

"I know you. I know your smile. But what was your name again?"

Her smile disappears, and my giddiness quickly follows. I have a horrible feeling like I've done something wrong.

"Pardon?"

"I remember your smile," I explain, pushing past my confusion. "But I don't remember who you are exactly. Please. What is your name?"

She smiles again at me, but I can tell that it is forced. It is barely a shadow of her true smile. But beautiful nevertheless.

"Jemma. My name is Jemma Simmons."


End file.
